Of Deathly Hallows and the Sorceror's Stone
by gyuunmaesan
Summary: When Dumbledore said he'd go back, Harry never imagined he would return this far. Making the best out of his situation, Harry tries to change things and ends up creating the oddest circumstances. DISCONTINUED.


Disclaimer: Harry Potter was created by Ms. JK Rowling. The author of this fan fiction is in no way connected to her personally, and does not intend to use this story for monetary benefits. This fan fiction contains spoilers for and lines from all seven Harry Potter books.

* * *

**Harry Potter, of Deathly Hallows, and the Sorcerer's Stone**

**_Chapter One-Dudley's Birthday_**

When Harry Potter opened his eyes he was met by suffocating air and darkness. "Have the Death Eaters buried me already?" the young man thought. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his brain registered that he was lying on a cot, not on earth; and the lighting of this room reminded him horribly of…

"Up! Get up! Now!"

…the cupboard under the stairs.

His aunt rapped on the door. "Up!" she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He smiled then shook his head. "Why am I smiling?" he thought. But then, it had been around seven years since he was back in his cupboard, with Aunt Petunia waking him up to cook breakfast for the Dursleys. Harry frowned. What happened? Why was he back in his cupboard under the stairs?

His aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said Harry.

"Well, get a move on. I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let I burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Harry gasped. The swooping sensation of déjà vu hit him.

"What did you say?" His aunt snapped through the door.

"Nothing… er… Aunt Petunia, what date is it today?"

"It's June 29, 1997! How could you forget?" Aunt Petunia huffed back into the kitchen.*

Dudley's birthday—Harry scrambled out of his cot and quickly dressed. Had he not been wondering what went wrong after his conversation with Dumbledore in his mind's version of "King's Cross Station", he would have marveled at how he instinctively knew how to wend his way around the cupboard though he hadn't been in it for seven years.

When he was dressed, Harry stopped by a mirror in the hallway to scrutinize his appearance. He was shorter and horribly thinner than his seventeen-year-old self. "I suppose this is how I looked like when I was ten," he mused. When Harry got into the kitchen, his eyes widened in surprise. Everything painfully looked like Dudley's birthday seven years ago, "Well, that's today, right?" Harry thought. He took over Aunt Petunia presiding over the bacon.

The events unfolded as Harry remembered them. Except that when they got to the zoo, Harry forgot to set the boa constrictor free. He was very immersed in his thoughts to talk to the snake, anyway. That evening, Harry took out a notebook he had barely written on and started jotting down his thoughts. He listed every ounce of information that he could squeeze out of his brain about the events that were to "happen" from this day to the one that he came from.

"When Dumbledore said I could go back, I did not expect to return to this point in time. But there must be a reason for it." With that thought in mind, Harry went to sleep once again on his cot in the cupboard under the stairs.

* * *

_**Chapter Two-The Letter from Hogwarts**_

During the summer holidays, Harry already had the habit of carrying his notebook with him everywhere he went. Random events triggered more memories and, no matter how painful some were, he didn't want to miss out any detail that might help him win the war against Voldemort.

Since Dudley's gang was always at the Dursleys', Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking. A lot of things bothered him and one of them was whether, as a child once more, he could perform the spells that he had learned over the years at Hogwarts. He had no wand yet so he had no way of knowing. So Harry settled for thinking about those spells. He had to remember them, and maybe, just maybe, this exercise would help him figure out how to cast nonverbal spells. Harry also started to practice what little knowledge of Occlumency he had gathered from Professor Snape. He couldn't allow Voldemort to break into his mind and see all the things he already knew. Also, emptying his mind before he went to sleep somehow helped him think more clearly the following day.

One morning, there was a horrible smell in the kitchen when Harry went in for breakfast. "Great," Harry thought, "my Stonewall High uniform." He sat down at the table and thanked Merlin that he got to go to Hogwarts. Aunt Petunia looked askance at him, as though she had been expecting him to ask her a question. Harry had been very quiet lately, but not just because he knew what would happen. One of his past times now was playing mind games with the Dursleys. He congratulated himself whenever they looked astonished that he followed their rules and was polite to them.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat. Harry's heart thumped. He hoped he didn't look too excited.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

Harry went to get the mail. His heart was pounding strongly now. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and—_a letter for Harry_.

Harry quickly stuffed the letter into his pants pocket. He didn't want Uncle Vernon to tear it up like last time.

Nothing eventful happened over the dining table that morning. "So far, so good," Harry thought.

Harry took the letter out when he was safely settled inside his cupboard for the night. Here it was, the letter addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

_Mr. H. Potter_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

Harry took his time to take in every detail of his first letter. The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. On the other side of the envelope, there was a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms: a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake surrounding a large letter H. Hogwarts!

Harry lay on his bed, awake, long after he had read the two pieces of parchment inside the envelope. How was he going to break this news to the Dursleys? "I'll be able to think of something tomorrow," Harry told himself. Now a habit, Harry emptied his mind of all thoughts before going to dreamland.

Harry wasn't still sure what he was going to say but decided to get it over with. The following evening, when Uncle Vernon and Dudley were already in their rooms, Harry entered the kitchen to talk to Aunt Petunia, who was still vigorously scrubbing every kitchen tile with an old toothbrush.

Harry never liked his aunt. As a child, he always wondered why she was mean to him, when she was the only living connection he had to his mother. Harry looked at the woman meticulously scrubbing her boring kitchen and suddenly felt pity for her, his aunt who had no resemblance whatsoever to Lily Evans.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted out. Aunt Petunia dropped the toothbrush—she was now scrubbing the sink—and merely stared at him, apparently shocked. Harry was surprised, too, but meant what he said. He knew what it felt like to be left behind and jealous of other children who had what he didn't have. "I'm sorry for whatever my mom did in the past that caused you to hate her so much," he said.

Aunt Petunia sat at the table and buried her face in her hands. Harry did not venture to sit at the table, too; he just remained standing where he was. "And thank you, for allowing me to stay in this house," Harry paused, looking for the right words. He knew that Dumbledore had sent his aunt a letter ten years ago explaining the protection that his mother's death had evoked. "I won't be alive right now if you didn't let me live here."

Harry walked towards the table and placed the letter in front of his aunt. "I received a letter yesterday about being accepted to a… special school." He refrained from using the word "magic" as it might change the mood. Aunt Petunia lifted her head and looked at the thick envelope. "I wanted to keep it a secret from you," Harry continued, "but I guess you ought to know. Good night."

Harry walked out of the kitchen and went back to his cupboard. He didn't know if he did the right thing confronting Aunt Petunia like that but in case the Dursleys tried to lock him, or throw him out or do anything funny to him, he was certain that a wild-haired, half-giant friend would come to rescue him.

* * *

_**Chapter Three-Aunt Petunia**_

Much to Harry's, Uncle Vernon's and Dudley's surprise, the next day, Aunt Petunia told Harry that from now on he was going to have Dudley's second bedroom.

"But Petunia… why?" Uncle Vernon asked, shocked that his wife made the decision without first informing him.

"The cupboard's getting too small for him," said Aunt Petunia.

It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, "I don't want him in there… I need that room… make him get out…"

Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Déjà vu made his head ache.

Later that day, Uncle Vernon visited Harry in his new room.

"So," he started menacingly, "Petunia told me about the letter to that, that…"

"Special school," Harry offered.

"Right. Have you replied to it?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"Not yet. There wasn't any return address on the envelope," Harry answered. He didn't like where this conversation was going.

"Ho! Well boy, you aren't going to that school! Your aunt and I have decided to ignore it." Uncle Vernon started pacing the room. "If they don't get an answer… Yes, that's best… we won't do anything…"

"But—"

"I'm not having one of… of your kind in the house! We swore when we took you in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense!"

The Harry of ten years, maybe even two years, ago would have shouted back at Uncle Vernon. In fact, the Harry now very much wanted to hit the fat, neck-less man pacing his room for attempting to once again thwart his destiny. Instead, Harry waited for the two of them to calm down a bit before speaking.

"Have you really talked to Aunt Petunia about this?"

"What are you implying, boy? Of course we have!"

"Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt if we all talked down in the kitchen, right, Aunt Petunia?"

Uncle Vernon started and looked back at the doorway. Harry had noticed that Aunt Petunia had been eavesdropping on their conversation and wanted to hear her true opinion about the matter. It had taken Harry seventeen years to notice that Uncle Vernon always made the big decisions in the house and never let Aunt Petunia speak—not literally; she always had her opinion about their neighbors' lives. Indeed, the one time Harry saw his aunt oppose his uncle was when Dumbledore sent her a Howler to remind her of her duty as Harry's remaining relative. Uncle Vernon glared at Harry, "Very well, then."

The dining table was now a place Harry could connect with the important moments of the past few days. Every one of the Dursleys and Harry were now seated there, face to face.

"We're not letting you go to that school," stated Uncle Vernon firmly.

"What school?" stupidly asked Dudley.

"I received a letter of acceptance to a certain school two days ago," answered Harry.

Dudley's eyes bugged out. "But you're good at nothing!"

Harry ignored his cousin.

"You're not going there. You'll be going to Stonewall High and you'll be grateful for it. I won't allow you to have those rubbish in your letter—spell books and wands and—"

"If he wants to go, then we'll let him go," Aunt Petunia interrupted.

Uncle Vernon gaped at her then suddenly grabbed the front of Harry's shirt from across the table, "Boy! What did you do to your aunt?"

"Vernon, stop it!" Aunt Petunia cried. Uncle Vernon reluctantly let go of Harry, who in turn pushed his chair away from the table so his uncle couldn't reach him anymore. His uncle was clearly trying to control his anger and was turning purple at the effort. "He didn't do anything," Aunt Petunia's large pale eyes met Harry's green ones. "I just remembered that he is my sister's son."

Dudley looked at his mother blankly, unable to grasp the situation. Harry looked at his aunt curiously.

"If we were the ones who died when Dudley was one year old, my sister wouldn't… she couldn't treat Dudley the way we treated Harry." Uncle Vernon mumbled something about having his sister Marge raise Dudley instead of Lily. Aunt Petunia didn't seem to hear him.

"Her methods of caring for Dudley would have been different from ours because of her… skills, but I am sure she could never think of making him sleep inside a cupboard. Lily was different but she had her heart in the right place." Aunt Petunia took a deep breath.

"I'm allowing Harry to go to this special school because Lily would have wanted that to happen."

"Well, if he's going to that school, then I won't let him live in here any longer!" Uncle Vernon declared.

Harry tried hard not to roll his eyes. The reaction was so typical of his uncle.

"The boy will have to stay, Vernon," said Aunt Petunia.

"W-what?"

"If we throw him out, the neighbors will talk," she said. She talked once more in her usual brisk, snappish manner. "They'll ask awkward questions, they'll want to know where he's gone. And he's only ten. We'll have to keep him."

From violet, Uncle Vernon started to turn pale.

"But Petunia, dear—"

Aunt Petunia ignored him. She talked to Harry.

"I'm allowing you to go to that school but whenever you come home for the holidays, do not ever, ever mention the name of that place. Do not come home with your pockets full of frog spawn, or dare turn teacups into rats," she looked terrified not at the magic itself but at the mess these things would make on her surgically clean home.

Uncle Vernon seemed to brighten up a bit at the fact that his wife was setting rules for his nephew. "We'll tell everyone that we're sending you to… St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys." Harry smirked. "And we'll never, ever shell out cash for your education, you hear that boy? We can agree about that, right Petunia?" Uncle Vernon asked her carefully.

She seemed reluctant at first but nodded her head.

"You do that, tell them I go to St. Whatsits. As for my tuition fees, I'll just have to find out if this school offers scholarships," said Harry. "I'll do my best so I can learn how to control my, er, talents so that funny stuff won't happen around here anymore," he added, just to make his aunt and uncle feel better about letting him go to Hogwarts.

In the evening, when Dudley and Uncle Vernon were at the living room watching TV, Aunt Petunia ordered Harry to clean the kitchen. It was strange because she never let anyone else scrub her sanctuary's tiles before. Harry supposed she was making up for the kindness she had shown him earlier by torturing him now.

Scrubbing the tiles with a child's toothbrush strained Harry's neck but he didn't dare complain because his aunt was also in the kitchen, scrubbing the sink with an adult's toothbrush. Twenty minutes into the task, Aunt Petunia started to talk.

"We used to be close when we were children…" Harry's ears perked up. His aunt continued, "…but she had to go to that school. After that our relationship changed. But it wasn't just because she learned…" Aunt Petunia swallowed hard, "…magic," she whispered. "I was angry because I couldn't go there, too." Harry was surprised that his aunt admitted this to him. He had only learned about this fact from Severus Snape's memories. She scrubbed the sink harder.

"Then, I was angry because it was always Lily this and Lily that, my parents were always so proud of her! So I called her a freak. But she never got angry at me, no matter how mean I was to her… and I resented her for that." Aunt Petunia took a deep breath to calm herself. "Then she met that Potter at school, and got married right after graduating. I guess that was another reason for hating him," Harry stopped scrubbing the tiles to look at his aunt. She also stopped scrubbing the sink and continued to talk, "aside from being… what he was. My mother died three years before and father one. Only the two of us were left but we didn't see each other since she was still at school. I really did miss Lily despite us being different. Her marriage to Potter ruined the chance for us to be together."

"And then she had you," Aunt Petunia smiled weakly. "She sent me a picture but I burned it so Vernon wouldn't see it was _moving. Of course I knew you'd be the same, just as strange, just as—as—special; then her letters stopped." Harry knew that they did because his parents had to go into hiding. "The next thing I knew was that you were at our doorstep; that she and Potter got blown up by some evil…evil… wizard; that he tried to kill you, too but you survived; and that you were brought here because before she died, Lily cast a spell over you that you could not be harmed by anyone as long as you lived with her relatives."_

Harry already knew the whole story but his throat still tightened upon hearing his aunt's version of it.

"Who sent you the letter?" he asked, though he knew who did already.

"Albus Dumbledore," his aunt whispered.

"He's the headmaster of the school…"

Aunt Petunia nodded then went back to scrubbing the sink. Harry was put off that all she did was tell him what he already knew, though of course, she didn't know that. He had hoped that she would tell more stories about his mother but supposed his aunt had been through a lot of stress that day. He scrubbed the tiles again. The two worked in silence until Aunt Petunia declared that the kitchen was sparkling clean. Harry looked around. It always was, anyway.

As Harry handed her back the toothbrush, Aunt Petunia looked straight into his eyes and said, "I've never told you that you have her eyes." Of course, Harry knew this but instead of feeling bored about the comment, he felt somehow glad.

"My mom's?" he asked.

"Yes… and my mother's," she added as an afterthought. Aunt Petunia turned back. "Now, go up to your room," she said in her usual brisk manner.

Emptying his mind that night was a harder task than usual.

* * *

_**Chapter Four-Magnolia Road**_

Things in the Dursley household changed after Aunt Petunia allowed Harry to enter Hogwarts. Following his aunt's example, Uncle Vernon and Dudley were polite to Harry. It was quite weird to hear them so _respectful_, since aside from being rude to him, the other way the Dursleys used to deal with him was not talking to him at all. He still did some household chores but he was never bossed around anymore. This, in Harry's opinion, was much better than the time the Dursleys chose to ignore him completely, thus, not even ordering him to do stuff.

Five days had already passed since Harry received his letter and he was starting to wonder why no Hogwarts witch or wizard had arrived yet to explain what Hogwarts was to his aunt and uncle, and bring him to London to shop for school supplies. He knew that that was the standard practice for Muggle-borns. (Hermione told him it was Professor Vector who talked to her family.) Harry supposed he could wait for someone to show up until the 29th of July and if no one came, he would ask his uncle to drive him to London so he could find a post owl and do his shopping at Diagon Alley.

Harry used his free time think about his time traveling adventure. He had reread what he had written on his notebook and was baffled by what he discovered. For instance, he had written on his notebook that since Uncle Vernon would tear up his first letter from Hogwarts, more would follow over the week and today, Saturday, some letters would find their way into the house rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs Aunt Petunia was supposed to receive that morning. But as far as he _remembered_ not one of these things happened. He only got one letter in fact. For Harry, it seemed as if another person had written those things, but that could not be because only he had touched the notebook! And besides, he had a _recollection_ of letters flying out of the Dursleys' fireplace and his uncle bringing the whole family to a hut in the middle of the sea.

The one explanation that made sense to Harry when he thought of these things was that his life was like a recordable videotape. Something had been recorded on it before but, due to an unknown circumstance, the tape rewinded itself to a certain point in time and a recording of a new series of events began. This in turn, caused overwriting to occur. Thus, what Harry "knew" that happened in his "previous" life (as proven by the notebook) was different from what he "remembered" that happened in his "immediate" past (as proven by Harry's brain).

So to prevent confusion in the future, Harry started keeping a second notebook, which he labeled "Overwrite". The first notebook was labeled "Previous Life/Things that ought to be changed" and Harry wrote a letter to himself in front of it:

_July 28, 1997_

_Dear Future Harry Potter,_

_There will come a day that you will lose all the memories you had that are written on this notebook because of the overwrite that has occurred. _(Harry proceeded to explain what the videotape theory above.)_ When that day comes, you will probably think that a madman wrote the things in here but I assure you all of them are true and really happened. To save yourself the trouble of questioning your sanity, I suggest that you think of the events jotted down here as something that happened in an alternative universe. I never used to believe in such a thing myself, but hey, if the Wizarding world exists, then I guess alternative worlds are possible, too. This theory is the only one that can fit our dilemma._

_Yours truly,_

_Past Harry Potter_

_P.S. It really is weird addressing myself as "Future" and "Past" especially when I know I'm from the future, a seventeen year old trapped in a ten year old's body._

_P.S.S. On July 31, I'll be turning both eleven and eighteen. Mental._

The 29th day of July came and still, no witch or wizard arrived at the Dursleys' doorstep. Harry Potter was walking along Magnolia Road in the afternoon, musing on how he should approach the touchy subject of going to London with his uncle. Actually, Harry was going to carry out a plan that he knew would be too risky to execute at Privet Drive.

"OH! I WONDER HOW I'M GOING TO REPLY TO THE LETTER I RECEIVED FROM HOGWARTS," Harry said in a clear, loud voice. Thankfully, no one poked their heads out of their window to stare at him although he supposed someone MUST have heard him and was merely peeking through their windows. "I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT 'WE AWAIT YOUR OWL BY NO LATER THAN JULY 31' MEANS. I WISH SOMEONE COULD HELP ME." That was Harry's last-ditch attempt to catch whoever-was-watching-him's attention.

Harry waited a few minutes for someone, anyone, even someone from the Ministry of Magic telling him that he violated the International Statute of Secrecy, to Apparate beside him. No one did, and Harry dejectedly walked home, although he did laugh at himself a bit over the fact that a few months ago, a witch or wizard who suddenly appeared without warning would be almost instantly hit by a Stunning or Disarming Spell. Indeed there was no reason for him to panic for he had gone back to the peaceful times, but Harry made a mental note to himself to practice "Constant vigilance!" along with his spells and Occlumency.

There was something odd at Privet Drive when Harry got back. He felt something dark and menacing. Cursing himself for not having a wand yet, Harry ran towards house number 4.

Dudley was sitting on the doorstep. That was very strange because it was nearly dinner- time and Dudley always sat at the dining table thirty minutes before the food was served.

"Dudley! What happened?" Harry asked worriedly.

For the first time in Dudley's life, he looked relieved to see Harry. "Harry, there's someone inside who wants to speak to you, he's talking to Mom and Dad right now."

Harry emptied his mind before entering the house. He may not have a wand to defend himself, but he was not going to let anyone swim through his thoughts.

Harry was not prepared to see the person in the living room—greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin—it could only be Severus Snape. Harry must have looked as shocked as he felt; Snape frowned at him. It really didn't help Harry that the last memory he had of Snape was the latter's demise. The image flitted briefly across Harry's mind. The boy shook his head, he definitely can't let anyone see that!

"You boy!" Uncle Vernon barked. The sudden appearance of a wizard inside the Dursleys' home brought back Uncle Vernon's rudeness towards Harry. "This professor is from that… that school you're going to attend," Uncle Vernon glared at Harry.

Aunt Petunia also looked disgusted but managed to say to Harry, "He was a friend of your mother's."

"As I was saying before Mr. Potter arrived," Snape spoke in barely more than a whisper but Harry heard him, "the Gamekeeper of Hogwarts will arrive two days from now to take your nephew to London so that he can buy his school supplies. I trust that you have no more questions about the noble and prestigious educational institution he is about to enter?"

Harry had a question—why didn't Snape repeat to him what had been told to his aunt and uncle—but decided it was too early to get cheeky with the Potions Master. Uncle Vernon also looked like he was about to explode, especially after the words "noble and prestigious educational institution", a sign that Snape was unwelcome to stay any longer.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon shook their heads. Snape stood up to leave. "You obviously don't know this or else you would have been less _vocal_ about asking help, Mr. Potter…"

Harry's face reddened. What he did at Magnolia Road was downright embarrassing but, as he reasoned, he was only TEN years old.

"…is that there is an International Statute of Secrecy we wizards and witches must abide by," Snape said. "So next time, your requests must be made through the proper channels."

"I'm sorry professor," Harry said, and he truly was for his own ego, "I just did that because I didn't know what the letter meant by posting an owl."

"I don't mean to be rude," interrupted Uncle Vernon, "but we are going to have dinner and I doubt you would like to join us."

"Very well observed, for a Muggle," sneered Snape. He walked out of the house. The moment Dudley saw the scary wizard, he squeaked and waddled into the house. Harry ran after Snape and caught him by his robes before the teacher could Disapparate.

"What is it, Potter?" Snape snapped. Harry was far used to this to be surprised nonetheless he apologized again. It was funny how a few months ago he hated Snape with a passion but now, his eyes held respect for this contrary Potions Master.

"I'm sorry sir, but what did you call my uncle back there?" asked Harry to stall some time.

"I called him a 'Muggle'. That is the term wizards and witches use to refer to non-magical people. Where you are now is the 'Muggle' world. I will now be returning to the 'Wizarding' world."

Harry continued to hold onto Snape's sleeve. "Sir, please, I just have two more questions."

"Well hurry then, I haven't got all day!"

Harry let go of Snape's robes. It must have been disgusting for the man to see the spitting image of James Potter touch him.

"Has an owl been posted?"

"Yes, as soon as we received word of your _eloquent speech," Snape's voiced dripped with sarcasm, "The headmaster sent me here to check on you. I have already posted an owl to Hogwarts. Posting an owl," Snape added upon seeing Harry's (fake) blank look, "means that you, the sender, make an owl, a real live owl," he emphasized, "take your letter to a recipient."_

"So it's like the postal service!" Harry exclaimed a little too enthusiastically. He saw Snape raise his eyebrows. (Harry's note to self: Polish acting skills.)

"And finally, sir, is it true that you were my mother's friend?"

Snape's expression was unreadable. "Yes, we were… even before our Hogwarts days." The last bit was barely audible but Harry somehow managed to lip read it.

Snape should have left already but he seemed to be reminiscing something. Then, without so much as a warning and with a loud cracking sound, he vanished from the spot.

* * *

_**Chapter 5-Diagon Alley**_

On the morning of July 31st, the Dursleys were hoping against hope that no one in their neighborhood noticed the unusually huge man who arrived to take Harry to London for the day. Since Rubeus Hagrid could not fit into the door of the Muggle house, Harry had to meet him outside. The Dursleys hid behind Harry.

"Harry!" said the giant.

Harry looked up at the familiar fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that Hagrid's black-beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes."

The giant chuckled.

"I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm.

"Anyway—Harry," said the Hagrid, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here—I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with _Happy Birthday Harry_ written on it in green icing.

Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon whispered, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley," which Hagrid heard.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don't worry."

Harry handed the box to his aunt, murmuring, "You can eat some of it, too."

Moments later, Harry and Hagrid were off. They rode the train to Paddington Station then got on the Underground, with Harry asking questions here and there about Hogwarts like any excited first year would.

Harry had been to London in his "previous life" but stayed close to Hagrid as the latter was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. The pair reached a tiny, grubby-looking pub situated between a big bookshop and a record shop.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place." The two entered the well-known pub.

Like before, everyone at the Leaky Cauldron shook Harry's hand the moment they recognized who he was—Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirell!" said Hagrid. Harry's eyes narrowed. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor, reaching out for Harry's hand, which the young boy didn't offer.

It was a good thing the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrel keep Harry to himself. After ten minutes, Hagrid managed to lead Harry through the bar and out into a small walled courtyard, which Harry knew was the portal to Diagon Alley.

After Hagrid tapped the third brick from the left above the trash bin, one of the gates to the Wizarding world opened.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

Harry was amazed at how large and colorful everything appeared, compared to the last time he had been here. This was a Diagon Alley not yet touched by the terror of Voldemort. Harry was surprised to find out that Fred and George's Weasley's Wizarding Wheeezes used to be an Apothecary that seemed to overprice its wares. (A plump woman outside was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad…")

Hagrid brought Harry to Gringotts. They first got money from the Potters' vault then went to vault seven hundred and thirteen to pick up the Sorcerer's Stone. Afterwards, Harry got his uniform, schoolbooks, a few other books for advanced reading, taking extra care that Hagrid didn't see him, and supplies and ingredients.

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again. "Just yer wand left—oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

"You don't have to—"

But Hagrid would have none of it. He brought Harry to Eoylops Owl Emporium. Harry was overcome by emotion upon spotting his beloved owl, Hedwig.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry now carried a large cage that held the beautiful, snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't help stammering his thanks. "If you only knew, Hagrid," Harry thought.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now—only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A magic wand… this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.

Mr. Ollivander was as enigmatic as ever. After trying out what seemed like the whole shop's stock of wands, Harry was finally reunited with his eleven-inch holly wand that contained a phoenix feather core, which came from Dumbledore's pet, Fawkes. It was brother to the wand of Voldemort.

Harry was quiet as he and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley. He felt as though he had forgotten to do something important. As the two passed through the wall, Harry asked Hagrid why an evil wizard killed his parents.

"Didn' them Dursleys' tell yeh anythin'?" asked Hagrid

"I only know what Aunt Petunia told me a week ago," answered Harry. "But she didn't mention why they were killed, or even the name of the criminal."

Hagrid got a table and ordered drinks for him and Harry at the now empty Leaky Cauldron.

"It's me fault for not makin' sure earlier," muttered Hagrid. "But yeh must know about yer mom and dad. I mean, they're _famous_. You're _famous_."

"What?" Harry faked. "So that's why they were shaking my hands. I thought it was normal for witches and wizards to warmly welcome newbies like myself."

"Yeh don' know…" Hagrid fixed Harry a bewildered stare.

Harry gave Hagrid an equally bewildered stare.

"I never expected this," Hagrid said in a low worried voice. "Well, it's best yeh know as I can tell yeh—mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it…" And Hagrid proceeded to add details to Aunt Petunia's story, particularly why his parents' death and his survival were so legendary.

After Hagrid's simplified narration of events, Harry sat silent, contemplating his next move. "Hagrid," he started, "Aunt Petunia told me that she received a letter from Professor Dumbledore when she found me on her doorstep. D'you," he paused. "D'you reckon I could meet Professor Dumbledore even before school begins? I want to ask about… about the protection my aunt mentioned…" Harry trailed off.

Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes. "Yeah—I'm sure he'd understand. Great man, Dumbledore, I'll let 'im know when I get back to 'ogwarts."

"Thanks Hagrid."

Back at the Dursleys, Harry was surprised to find two items on top of the desk in his room, his cake (which was still whole) and a nicely wrapped present. Wondering from whom it came from, Harry carefully opened the gift—it was an old photo album. Harry's eyes watered as he flipped through the pages and found pictures of his mother (and aunt) when she was little.

Today was indeed the most unusual birthday Harry ever had.

* * *

_**Chapter 6-The Unexpected**_

Harry's last month at the Dursleys was quite peaceful. Dudley was very much baffled by the turn of events at home, especially by the strange man who came to talk to his parents about Harry's school that he didn't dare bully his cousin anymore.

Harry kept to his room with Hedwig as company. He spent his time reading the advanced spell books he had bought, as well as reviewing his lessons in Potions. He wasn't that bad at the subject if he had received an "Exceeds Expectations" in his OWLs but Harry didn't want to relive the experience of Snape taunting him every time in class. Moreover, he had to heal his bruised ego from relying on help from the Half-blood Prince.

Since he wasn't officially a Hogwarts student yet, Harry had no restriction on using magic. Thus, he was able to test out some spells on his magic wand without the fear of Ministry officials arresting him. Though he was sorely tempted to hex Dudley, he couldn't practice the spells on other living objects except the flies in his room, as that might be seen by Muggles and violate the Statute on Secrecy. Harry was delighted to discover that he could still carry out the Defense spells learned in the past. He was even able to produce a Patronus.

Today, Harry was going to try Apparating from his bed to his desk. He focused his mind on the three D's: Destination, Determination, Deliberation… Destination, Determination, Deli…

"CRACK!"

He was able to do it.

"Bravo!"

Startled, Harry spun around to see an old man with a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard and moustache. His twinkling blue eyes peered at Harry over his half-moon glasses.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, your aunt did _not_ warn you that I was coming," said Dumbledore pleasantly.

"How long have you been standing there, sir?" asked Harry of his unexpected visitor.

"Oh, long enough for me to witness that bit of highly advanced magic. May I enter your room?" Harry nodded and offered the old man the seat in front of his study table. Dumbledore closed the door behind him and locked it but did not sit down.

"Do not worry, I have told your aunt that we would be talking for quite a long time. Now tell me Tom, what have you done to Harry Potter?" the headmaster asked pleasantly but his eyes were no longer twinkling.

So Albus Dumbledore thought that Voldemort had taken over Harry's body! But Harry couldn't blame the old man. How could an eleven year old perform Apparition, without anyone apparently teaching him? Of course someone trained him in his past life but this Dumbledore did not know that yet. Finally, he answered, "Professor Dumbledore, I am not Harry Potter, but neither am I Tom Riddle." Harry allowed the headmaster's piercing blue eyes to scan him.

"If you will allow me, sir," Harry raised his wand. "Let me show you the form of my Patronus." Dumbledore nodded.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" A stag erupted out of Harry's wand. It landed on the floor, bounded once across the room, and soared out of the window, dissolving into the morning light.

"Curious, curious…" Professor Dumbledore whispered. "So, this is why you asked Hagrid if you could speak to me?" Harry nodded.

"Very well, speak, young man, and I shall listen." And Dumbledore took the seat in front of Harry's desk.

"Sir, I am not the eleven year old Harry Potter. The truth is I'm already eighteen. I am the Harry Potter from the future."

Silence echoed across the room.

"That was a rather shocking confession. Please go on," prodded Dumbledore.

Harry started by the telling the tale of that fateful night at the Triwizard tournament finals—how he and Cedric Diggory were transported to the graveyard where Voldemort's father was buried and how Voldemort, with the assistance of Wormtail, regained his body.

"He took my blood so that the protection my mother left in me would be his, too. Since then, he could touch me without hurting himself, while before, he could not."

There it was! Harry saw that gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore's eyes once more. He thought he had imagined it last time but Harry knew better now. It had something to do next events that he would unfold.

Harry told Dumbledore about the reestablishment of the Order of the Phoenix and the skepticism of the Ministry of Magic.

"Voldemort did not reveal himself to the Wizarding world right away. He spent one year trying to retrieve the record of the prophecy made about us at the Department of Mysteries. By then, he had discovered the connection our minds shared. He used me…" Harry paused. It was still painful to remember how Sirius died because of his own godson's stupidity. "He lured me into the Department so I could get the prophecy for him."

Dumbledore's expression was that of utter incredulity. "So Voldemort finally heard the entire contents of the prophecy?"

"No sir, it got smashed in the fight that ensued. My friends joined me go to the Ministry. The Order also came. We all fought the Death Eaters."

"And… what have I been doing the whole time?" Dumbledore asked rather hesitantly.

Harry told Dumbledore how the latter arrived in the nick of time and dueled Lord Voldemort. But Harry knew he had not yet fully answered the question.

"There were certain events, sir, before my fourth year at Hogwarts, that have brought me to the headmaster's office plenty of times. However, when Voldemort returned, you distanced yourself from me to protect me. You were afraid that Voldemort would possess me so he could spy on you once he found out we were a bit close."

"But I take it that my plan backfired," Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded. He found it hard to continue talking especially when he felt the urge to berate Dumbledore for his mistakes.

"And so, after all of these events," said Harry, "You finally told me why Voldemort wanted to kill me. It was during the end of my fifth year in Hogwarts."

Harry recited the prophecy in front of Dumbledore.

_THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES… BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES… AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS AN EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT… AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES._

"I only told you this, in your fifth year…" said Dumbledore slowly.

"Yes sir. That and everything else related to it, like why I had to live with the Dursleys, and why you delayed telling me the truth even when I had already asked you about it during my first year." Harry paused. "You admitted that you cared more for my happiness than for me knowing the truth."

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "Then I have acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act."

Harry nodded. "Voldemort revealed himself and terror spread across the Wizarding community. But Hogwarts remained open and it was there, in my sixth year, that you arranged meetings, in which, you revealed to me Voldemort's past, through your memories and the memories of those who were connected to him."

The odd gleam was back in Dumbledore's eyes.

"That sir, was how you told me about Voldemort's Horcruxes."

At the mention of the word "horcruxes", Dumbledore stood up and started to pace the room. "Horcruxes! So he was indeed using them!"

"You knew?" It was Harry's turn to look at Dumbledore incredulously. "You knew about the Horcruxes this early yet did not do anything about them?" he asked, breathless.

"I have always suspected Lord Voldemort using them but I have never had proofs."

Harry's temper was rising dangerously. He stood up and faced Dumbledore who had thankfully stopped pacing the room. "What proofs do you need? Oh, I know! You probably want the Chamber of Secrets opened again through Tom Riddle's diary, just so you could get a proof of a Horcrux, don't you?"

Dumbledore sat down again and tried to assuage Harry's anger. "I only have my guesses," he said calmly.

"BUT YOUR GUESSES HAVE ALWAYS BEEN UNUSUALLY GOOD!" Harry yelled.

"Mr. Potter, I must ask you to calm down, or we will never reach the end of this most unusual story," Dumbledore said.

Harry glared at Dumbledore but sat down on his bed.

"It is a good thing I strengthened your _Muffliato _with an Impenetrable charm around the walls of this room after I locked it. Your aunt and cousin would no doubt have been surprised at your outburst," Dumbledore said conversationally.

Harry's face was still a dark as a rain cloud. Dumbledore continued to talk, "You must listen to me as I attempt to explain the actions of my future self. I see now that what he has done and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age."

"No, Professor," Harry contradicted. "It was more important for you to gather and sort all the information you could get about Voldemort, regardless of the number of nameless and faceless people and creatures that would be slaughtered while you were busy with your task."

The words came out without Harry thinking about them. He was now sure that the headmaster would be furious at him. Who wouldn't? This was supposedly Dumbledore's first meeting with the one-year-old he had left at the doorstep of Lily Potter's Muggle relatives, and yet he was already hearing words like these.

Harry's green eyes met Dumbledore's blue ones as the former apologized for what he just said.

"True, that was rather impertinent," said Dumbledore somberly, "if I were speaking to an eleven-year-old Harry Potter. However," Dumbledore still spoke in a serious yet lighter tone, "that uncanny insight into my character proves that you are a person who has truly known me and whom I have trusted. Besides…" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "…Your choice of words was strange, even for an eighteen year old. My speech pattern has rubbed off on you, I believe."

Harry couldn't help but grin. "So you believe me sir…"

Dumbledore held out his hand to silence Harry. "It would be more correct to say I am seeing a hint of truth to your words." Harry's brain gears speeded up to think of ways on how to make the headmaster believe him.

"Now, please go on, Harry. I shall make no more attempts to rebut what your accusation, as it will deviate us from your remarkable account," promised Dumbledore.

Harry resumed his story telling. He told Dumbledore of how, in what was supposed to be his seventh year at Hogwarts, the second war broke out and how he and his friends went into hiding to search for the rest of the Horcruxes and avoid Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

It was the first time Harry had recounted last year's adventures to anyone aside from his diary. He felt the familiar feeling of relief, as though the burden in his chest was being put into the right perspective. It was then that Harry debated with himself to inform Dumbledore of the Deathly Hallows. It had been proven before that Dumbledore still harbored a yearning to bring the three creations of the Peverell brothers together. Harry decided to tell Dumbledore about them on another day.

Harry finally told Dumbledore of the last encounter with Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. It was already past three o'clock in the afternoon and Harry was still telling his tale to Dumbledore.

"Afterwards, I found myself in a, er, place and I was able to talk to you," Harry paused. He had tried to avoid telling Albus Dumbledore of his death.

Dumbledore smiled. "Ah! We have come to this point, have we not? Do not worry, Harry. Though you have not said anything, I have surmised that I must have died, or else I wouldn't have left you and your friends alone on your quest to find the Horcruxes."

"Sir, it is not the fact that you died that I was hiding." Harry explained to the headmaster. "As you told me before, _to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure_. I just don't think I have the right to influence the choices you would have to make in the future."

Dumbledore stood up. "A wise decision, Harry. What you just said has proven that you are indeed not Tom Riddle. Well then, what did my soul tell yours in this wonderful place you found yourself in?"

"Professor, there were a lot of things about your past that came out after your death, which you were able to clarify. We also talked about the connection between Voldemort and me, and why I was given the chance to choose whether to go on or go back."

"And you chose to go back, but instead of finding yourself in the Forbidden Forest where Voldemort cast the Killing spell on you for the second time in your life, you found yourself here," Dumbledore concluded. He walked towards the window and watched a car moving along Privet Drive.

"What we have here is no ordinary time travel," Dumbledore mused. "Otherwise, the body of an eleven year old Harry would be here, alongside the body of an eighteen year old Harry."

Harry voiced out his fear, "So Professor, you do not know how I could go back to my proper time and body?"

"Alas, Harry, I do not know, but I sense that you have resigned yourself to that fact."

Harry agreed. "I guess so, sir. If Voldemort could be destroyed even before he gets the chance to come to full power, then a lot of people could be saved."

"Is that what you truly believe in?"

The faces of all of Harry's friends who had died in battle swam before his eyes. Fighting back the tears that threatened to fall, Harry declared, "Yes, sir."

Albus Dumbledore turned his back on the window to face Harry. "I have to admit that I am quite disappointed. All the while, I thought I would be given the possibility to have…" He looked at Harry longingly. "…such a person on my hands."

Harry didn't know how to react to this so he just said, "Everything that's happened is unbelievable Professor, but I know you're the only person who could understand and help me.

"Thank you for your trust, Harry," Dumbledore said, and he really looked grateful. "There is such a deep and great magic behind all these events. I am glad that an old fool like me was given the chance to witness it." His blue eyes once again scanned Harry. "I am now under your service, Harry Potter." Dumbledore bowed.

Harry felt himself go red. "You don't have to do that, Professor."

"Ah, yes, I was doing a bit of theatrics a while ago." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. "But I meant what I said. You will require my assistance in getting these Horcruxes, especially now that you are back in this time where, for instance, stealing an item from a Gringotts vault would not be easily forgiven by the Ministry and goblins since there is no war." Yet Dumbledore looked out of the window wistfully. "I must admit that it pains me to be going after them without me completing the jigsaw puzzle that is Lord Voldemort."

Harry, who had been writing a list of the Horcruxes and their locations, looked up and said, "Professor, I think we can reach a compromise here. Aside from this list I am making now, I will also make a list of the memories you showed me before, which you can now retrieve at an earlier date." Harry did this and showed the latter to Dumbledore. The headmaster looked at Harry guiltily.

"I presume you will scold me again, if I told you I only lack two of the memories listed here."

"Which ones?" Harry asked.

"I am missing Horace Slughorn's and Bob Ogden's."

"I don't know how you found out about Bob Ogden, sir, so he's all in your hands. You have to be careful around Professor Slughorn, though. He is rather ashamed of this particular memory."

"I presume he tried to tamper it?" Dumbledore guessed.

Harry gnashed his teeth but remembered something.

_A much older and feebler looking Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, his blackened hand upon the table. He and Harry had just risen out of the Pensieve._

"_Four years ago, I received what I considered certain proof that Voldemort split his soul. You handed it to me, Harry. The diary, Riddle's diary… although I did not see the Riddle who came out of the diary, what you described to me was a phenomenon I had never witnessed. A mere memory starting to act and think for itself… sapping the life out of the girl… something much more sinister had lived inside that book… A fragment of soul… The diary had been a Horcrux. But this raised as many questions as it answered."_

"I suppose I can't blame you, Professor. You started acting upon the Horcrux theory after the Chamber of Secrets was reopened. That was during my second year," Harry added. "I think, it would help you, sir, if I shared with you my memories of that event," Harry offered.

"Thank you, Harry. Do you know how a memory is shared, though?" Dumbledore asked.

"I saw you do it once sir, but, no, I really don't know how to."

"Then let me show you again."

Dumbledore placed the tip of his wand into his own silvery hair, near his temple. "You have to concentrate on the thought that you want to share," he instructed. When Dumbledore took the wand away, hair seemed to be clinging to it—but Harry knew that it was in fact a glistening strand of thought.

"And sir, how do I put my thought back?"

"Let's say this thought was in the Pensieve. You simply place the tip of your wand on the surface of thoughts. Your memory will recognize your wand. Then, in order for you to welcome back your memory, you must first empty your mind."

"Like Occlumency," Harry muttered.

"Oh, did my future self teach you Occlumency, too?" asked Dumbledore delightedly.

"Er, no sir. You had Professor Snape teach me and… it was a fiasco."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Even I find my future self's actions strange."

After Harry placed his memory in a bottle Dumbledore had conjured, he showed the old man the first list of the Horcruxes and their locations.

1. Slytherin's ring-_I'll leave it up to you to find it after you've talked to Bob Ogden.-Harry_

2. Slytherin's locket-Grimmauld Place, protected by Kreacher

3. Hufflepuff's cup-Bellatrix Lestrange's vault

4. Ravenclaw's diadem-Room of Requirement at Hogwarts

5. Tom Riddle's diary-with Lucius Malfoy

6. Harry himself

Dumbledore looked at Harry strangely after reading the list. "You are not scared knowing that you may not be given the choice to go back after everything is done?"

"I admit sir, that I am afraid, but I am less afraid than Voldemort to come back to the place I told you about," Harry confessed.

Albus Dumbledore looked at Harry with pride before going back to business.

"Hmmm… we will have a hard time getting some of these items without attracting attention," said Dumbledore.

Something in Harry's mind clicked. How could he have forgotten this? "Professor! There's something you must know about Quirell…" Dumbledore held out his hand as a sign to silence Harry.

"I have already formed my own conclusions about Professor Quirell, Harry." After seeing Harry's skeptical look, "It is now my turn to ask you to trust me." Harry sighed and nodded.

"It is good we both know that utmost secrecy is required in the tasks ahead of us." Dumbledore walked towards the door. "I shall be leaving now. I have trespassed on your aunt's hospitality long enough." He reached out to turn the knob. "Although you should rightfully be a seventh year student now, I have no choice but to see you at Hogwarts as a regular first year."

"Wait sir!" Harry called.

Dumbledore sighed. "Modesty aside, I know you perceive me as a great wizard, Harry, but even I need time to digest everything that I learned today, but…" paused Dumbledore, chuckling at Harry's disappointed expression. "…yes, what is it Harry?"

"Well, there is one more thing…"

* * *

_**Chapter 7-Back at Hogwarts**_

For Harry, the first of September couldn't come more quickly enough. Uncle Vernon and Dudley finally discovered the joy of ignoring Harry and did that instead of forcing themselves to be polite to him. While his aunt continued to let him do a few chores around the house, she seldom spoke to him, too. It was as though the events before his birthday were forgotten.

Apart from the day of Dumbledore's unexpected visit, the only correspondence Harry had from the headmaster was a small note warning him to be more discreet about practicing his spells. Harry supposed that the Ministry was getting suspicious of Number 4 Privet Drive so he lessened his spell practice to twice or thrice a day since Harry believed that it would be more suspicious if the spells stopped altogether. That meant he had more time to focus the rest of his energy on not only reviewing first year Potions but also the rest of his subjects. He even found the time to read _Hogwarts, a History_!

The joy that Harry felt as he and the Dursleys went to London was so great, that he didn't mind Uncle Vernon infuriating smirk when they reached the barrier between platforms 9 and 10.

"Looks like they haven't built your platform yet, boy." said Uncle Vernon nastily, and he went back to the car laughing.

Harry could have easily gone through the barrier but he hung around, waiting for the Weasleys to arrive. However, it was already five minutes before eleven o'clock and the Weasleys hadn't showed up yet. Feeling like a fool and not really knowing why he chose to wait in the first place, Harry wheeled his cart around and ran towards the barrier. It seemed like he was the last student to show up. Sprinting towards the closest empty-looking compartment, Harry quickly tossed Hedwig inside first and tried to shove and heave his trunk towards the train door. Just then, the whistle sounded. Panicking, Harry jumped over his trunk to get inside the train then tried to pull it inside. It was impossible, his trunk was too heavy. Finally remembering that he was a wizard, Harry reached for his wand from the back pocket of his pants to perform a levitating spell but someone had lifted the trunk and pushed it in. Harry looked up and saw Mr. Weasley.

"All right, son?"

"Yes, thank you sir," said Harry fervently. He heard Mr. Weasley gasp, "Merlin's beard!" as the train began to move.

"You wouldn't have to hurry like that if you arrived at the station earlier," an irritated voice came from behind Harry. "Why, my parents made sure we came to the station an hour before the train leaves," it added rather loftily.

"Well, I'm sorry," Harry retorted angrily. "My parents are dead." He turned to face his enemy and was surprised to find himself face to face with a girl who had lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth. This Hermione Granger, Harry thought, was much more irritating than the older version who he knew. He realized how much Hermione had changed over the years since they became friends after the Halloween troll incident.

"Sorry," the two of them said aloud. Harry let Hermione talk first. "I-I didn't know," she stammered while fiddling with the cloth of her new Hogwarts robes.

"Sorry," Harry apologized. "I don't know why I said those things, too." He then offered his hand. "I hope we don't become enemies at school because of this." Hermione smiled a bit. "I'm Harry Potter."

Her eyes grew large at the mention of his name. "Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed because of déjà vu.

"Goodness, didn't you-" With an effort, Hermione stopped herself. "Ah, yes, I'm Hermione Granger." She finally took his hand and shook it.

"Well I didn't know I was in those books," Harry explained conversationally as he arranged his things around the compartment, "because I only just found out that I was a wizard when I got my Hogwarts letter."

"So you were brought up in our world? And your relatives never told you that your parents were wizards?" Hermione asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, they're actually very scared of magic or even the mention of it. I think they thought if I didn't know what I was, I wouldn't become a wizard."

"Hmmm… but even if you don't know you're a witch or wizard, strange things still happen around you," Hermione mused. "Nobody in my family's magic at all. It was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased that there was an explanation for the things that happened around me before. Hogwarts is the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough."

She said all of these very fast.

"Er, I've read our books," Harry agreed. Even if he was eighteen years old mentally, he still hadn't memorized the contents of the first year course books.

"I've also tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me," Hermione continued.

"Ah, yes. I did that too," Harry said.

The two sat in silence for a while. Hedwig gave a tiny hoot and finally, the conversation got rolling, starting with how he had an owl although he was like Hermione, a "Muggle-born", for the lack of a better term. It then shifted to speculations of what Hogwarts was like and the Sorting. Harry kept himself from revealing all that he knew about the place from Hermione, though she already knew quite a lot, having read _Hogwarts, a History. _Finally, he suggested that they walk around and try to find first years who came from wizarding families so they could talk about the new world they were going to be a part of.

Harry and Hermione met Neville Longbottom on the train corridor. He was looking for his toad, Trevor. The round-faced boy's eyes widened at the mention of Harry's name but he was much more concerned about finding his toad than ogling at Harry. The three of them decided to split up, Hermione with Neville, and Harry alone, to find the missing creature.

Harry used this opportunity to search for Ron Weasley. He found the red-haired boy sitting alone in a compartment.

"Hello," Harry said. "Have you seen a toad around here?"

"Oh, are you missing one, too?" Ron replied. His mood was rather gloomy. "My seatmate also lost his toad."

"No, I'm just helping Neville," Harry explained. He watched Ron sigh. "So I guess he's your seatmate." Harry asked.

Ron nodded. "I told him it would turn up. Maybe I should have helped him, too, but—" Ron looked out of the window gloomily.

Harry wondered why Ron was acting like that.

"Can I stay here? I've already searched this section of the train, anyway," Harry asked.

"Don't you like to go back to your own compartment?" Ron replied.

"Er, no. I think my seatmate's still with Neville so I'll be alone, too for a while."

Ron didn't protest Harry's sitting in the compartment and just gave him a look that said "Ok, if you want to."

Harry pretended to look around the compartment. When Ron did not make any move to even talk to him, Harry got a little bit irritated. "What's his problem?" he thought.

There was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry looked at Ron, whose ears went pink. He muttered that he'd brought sandwiches.

Harry went out into the corridor and bought Pumpkin Pasties, Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

When he returned, Ron was already chewing on the sandwiches. He made eating look like a very painful task.

Ignoring this, Harry asked, "Are you from a wizarding family?"

Ron looked surprised. He swallowed painfully before answering, "Yes. And you're Muggle-born?"

"Well, you could say that," answered Harry. "It's my first time to see these things. These aren't really frogs, are they?" He pointed at the food he bought. Ron smiled a bit.

"What are you eating?" Harry asked.

"Oh this? Corned beef sandwiches. My mom always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on -"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron.

"Really, go on, have a pasty," said Harry. "It's the first time I'm eating this stuff."

Ron took a closer look at Harry. "Blimey… you're… are you?"

"What?" asked Harry.

"Are you Harry Potter?"

"Oh, him… I mean, yes, I am."

"Wow. I'm Ronald Weasley but everyone calls me Ron." He stared at Harry for a few seconds then accepted the pasty. The sandwiches lay forgotten as the two ate and talked to each other.

The compartment door slid open again. Neville and Hermione entered it.

"He's gone!" Neville sobbed.

"You didn't find Trevor?" Harry asked Hermione.

Hermione shook her head.

Ron and Hermione introduced themselves to each other. Harry offered Neville a pasty before going out into the corridor. Making sure that no one was watching him, Harry took out his wand and said, "_Accio_ Trevor!" In a few moments, the toad went zooming into Harry's hand.

When Harry got back, he brought Trevor and more candies with him into the compartment.

The four of them spent the rest of the afternoon talking and eating the Every Flavor Beans. Hermione still had a bossy tone and surprised the other two when she said she had learned their course books by heart. But she wasn't acting so much like she knew everything and eagerly listened to Ron and Neville as they explained things about the Wizarding world. Ron, on the other hand, had a lighter mood now. He seemed to be happy that he could share with his companions things like what a wizard could do after graduating from Hogwarts. Neville was simply happy to be reunited with Trevor.

Harry and Hermione left so that Ron and Neville could change into their Hogwarts robes. Hermione waited for Harry to change before entering their compartment again.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. He, Hermione, Ron and Neville grouped together. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Hagrid led them all to the lake for the traditional boat crossing. Like before, Professor McGonagall met them then led the first years to a small empty chamber off the Great Hall. She then proceeded to talk about the Sorting. After she had left, Harry looked around and saw that everyone else looked terrified. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Harry saw Ron and Neville getting paler.

They were then led to the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put the Sorting Hat. It burst out into song. After the applause, Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said.

As expected, Hermione and Neville got into Gryffindor. Draco Malfoy got into Slytherin. There was a ruckus when she called Harry's name. Harry put the hat on.

"Hmmm… what do we have here?" the Hat wondered. "Strange. You've been sorted before." Harry gripped the edge of the stool tightly.

"Please," he thought. "Please sort me."

"I won't change where I placed you before," it said.

"Not Slytherin!" Harry thought desperately.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat shouted.

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took it off and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved to have been placed in Gryffindor once more he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

Ron got into Gryffindor.

After the Sorting, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet to welcome the students. "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" His voice echoed across the Hall. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry laughed. It felt good to hear those words again.

Hermione looked at Percy "Is he - a bit mad?" she asked uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes."

The students and teachers all enjoyed the sumptuous meal. Harry joined the conversation with fellow first years Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan while Hermione and Percy talked about Transfiguration. At last, the desserts disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

Also, it has come to our attention that there is an abundance of other creatures being taken care of as pets aside from toads, cats and owls. Before you leave the Hall tonight, the prefects shall collect these creatures."

The students started murmuring in protest.

"Lee, I think this is because of your tarantula!" said Fred Weasley.

"Wicked!" Lee Jordan grinned.

"Scabbers!" whispered Ron.

Dumbledore held up a hand to silence the murmurings. "Do not worry. We shall return your pets to you tomorrow after we have reviewed whether they are dangerous or not."

"Don't worry," George Weasley reassured his younger brother. "All Scabbers does is eat and sleep. There's nothing dangerous about that."

Harry looked at the fat, gray rat. It was snoozing comfortably on Ron's lap.

"What if I hide him?" asked Ron.

Percy heard this. "No Ron, you might lose points for Gryffindor if you do that. I'll take Scabbers now."

"C'mon, Percy. He was your pet before."

Percy pointed at his prefect badge. "I'm a prefect. Give me Scabbers."

Ron begrudgingly handed Scabbers over.

"And finally," continued Dumbledore, "I must tell you that this year the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Afterwards, the school song was sung and the students made their way to their Houses. Ron was mumbling about brothers who cared more for rules than for their family along the way.

They made their way to the upper floors of the Hogwarts castle and stopped at the very end of a corridor where a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress was hanging.

"Password?" she said. "Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase - they were obviously in one of the towers - they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed. Harry was glad to be home.

And although Harry felt sorry for Ron, he was glad Professor Dumbledore acted out on the information Harry had given him when the old wizard visited him at the Dursleys.

* * *

_**Chapter 8-Things that were supposed to happen:**_

- They find out that Scabbers is Peter Pettigrew and due to the rather showy way of the discovery (I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking at that time; he didn't stick to the plan!), the Weasley family is in disgrace.

- They get Pettigrew to admit is crimes, however Sirius Black is still a convict (too much politics at the Ministry) but he is removed from Azkaban.

- All other Horcruxes are destroyed.

- Voldemort, instead of going after the Stone, gets his hands on the Flamels' stock of the Elixir of Life. He completely possesses Quirrell's body.

- Harry and Voldemort face off, with Harry resigned to get killed when suddenly he realizes he isn't a Horcrux anymore when he can't speak Parseltongue and remembers that his scar didn't hurt anymore.

- Too bad, he realized it too late.

- But he really didn't die. A spell from Dumbledore causes Harry to drop to the ground before the Avada Kedavra hits him. Dumbledore and Harry cast Reducto and Sectumsempera respectively, severely maiming Voldemort (he loses his limbs).

- Voldemort is jailed at Numengard.

- Nobody really knows about this because it's Quirrell's face they see.

* * *

_**October 8, 2010**_

Dear Reader,

I've gone and done something I probably shouldn't have—I read other time travel stories for Harry Potter. I didn't know there were a lot of these things on . So far, I've only read one that was completed (this was a parody) and only a few that were compliant with _Deathly Hallows_. Most of the time travel stories featured Harry never trusting Dumbledore again; in fact, there were far too many of these that it became tiring to read them. Eventually, I found one where Harry trusted Dumbledore, and was I happy to find this! Finally, there was a story with the same premise as mine. Because despite the manipulations Dumbledore did in the previous timeline, I still believe that he is the only wizard who would easily believe Harry the time traveler, who also happens to be just 17 years old and has no awesome powers. And now reader may recommend that you read this story instead? It's called Harry Potter and the Trust by Meandering Fox. (_ www. fanfiction s/3963087/1/Harry_Potter_and_The_Trust_)

Due to these events, I lost steam for my story a few years ago. I hope the synopsis written above will satisfy the curiosity of those readers who wanted to see how things would end.

With my apologies,

Gyuunmaesan


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